


Gentlemen, Place Your Bets

by aristotle_chipotle



Category: Ocean's Eleven Trilogy (Movies)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-03-11
Updated: 2021-03-11
Packaged: 2021-03-17 20:07:15
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,431
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29971614
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/aristotle_chipotle/pseuds/aristotle_chipotle
Summary: There's absolutely no doubt that Livingston's been acting different lately, and everyone seems to know why except him. It's only a matter of time until he realizes, so the team does the only sensible thing to do in Vegas: a little friendly gambling.
Relationships: Basher Tarr/Livingston Dell, Danny Ocean/Rusty Ryan
Kudos: 9





	Gentlemen, Place Your Bets

“Livingston’s an idiot.”

“Pardon?”

Danny Ocean blinked, looking up from the granite countertop where he’d been trying and failing to slice a tomato. The remaining parts of the sandwich were sitting next to the cutting board. He’d assumed Rusty had been watching him maul what was left of the fruit, but Rusty was staring across the room, through the kitchen doorway that framed the living room sofa. That was where Livingston was sitting, monitoring something on a laptop.

“Livingston,” repeated Rusty, slowly and patiently, “is an idiot.”

“Right. Yeah, I heard you the first time. Uh, may I ask why?”

“Watch,” said Rusty, checking his watch, and he began counting down softly from ten.

On ten, there was an electronic beeping noise, and Livingston jumped, grabbing frantically for his phone. He flipped it open, reading whatever message he’d just received like it was some kind of ancient text in an Indiana Jones movie that contained the secrets of an entire lost civilization. Then he grinned and shut the laptop, getting up from the sofa.

“Don’t tell me he’s in the stock market,” said Danny.

“I’m afraid it’s worse. Every day at three, he gets the same damn text, and he always acts like it’s some kind of surprise.” Rusty laughed low, appreciative. “Basher’s got him running errands downtown, since he’s stuck in the drill.”

“What, don’t we let him out enough? He’s got himself all worked up about getting coffee?” Danny chuckled. “Should I schedule more group outings? If you want to go to Disneyland you can just ask.”

“It’s not the coffee, Danny.”

“Oh,” said Danny, giving up on the tomato. “You think he’s…”

“Yep.”

“Do you think Basher…”

“Nope.”

“Oh,” said Danny. “ _Oh_.”

* * *

“Are you even hearing a word I’m saying?”

“What?” shouted Linus over the pounding noise of machinery.

“I said-”

Basher gave up and rolled his eyes, returning to the wall and pulling a lever. He held a finger in the air, putting Linus on pause as the noise slowly died down to a dull roar.

“You start it up and start trying to explain stuff, and I can’t hear a word of it,” said Linus. “Can’t someone else do this? Can’t I get Turk or someone?”

“You think I’d trust Turk with this thing? I wouldn’t trust Turk to order a pizza without blowing something up. I just need someone to pay attention long enough to understand the basics so I can make a run downtown for some supplies.”

“Again, why don’t you just make Livingston do it?”

“I’ve already got Livingston doing me favors. I’m not about to… just use your head for five minutes and you’ll understand it. Bloody hell.”

There was a knock on the back wall, hollow and metallic, and Livingston appeared.

“Finally,” groaned Linus. “I’m out. You can find someone else to chew out before I lose my hearing.”

“Oh, that is absolutely wonderful. Thank you so much. Wonderful.”

Linus froze, noting a dramatic change in tone. Basher had redirected his attention to Livingston, who’d come bearing Starbucks, and also dropped his voice about fifty decibels.

“I remembered to ask for the soymilk this time,” said Livingston, somewhat proudly. “They had it, and they also had those coconut things, so I got a couple packs of those. And that store on the corner just got more of those archaeology magazines.”

“Perfect. You’re a wonder.”

Linus watched as Basher slapped Livingston playfully on the shoulder, took the goods, and climbed back up to the upper level. He paused, as if remembering something, and turned.

“Could I also get another one at six?” he asked, shaking the iced coffee. “Not too dark. I’m just working late.”

“You should do decaf,” said Livingston. “You need to sleep.”

“ _Come on_.”

“Please?”

“Sleep is for the weak,” grumbled Basher, but he seemed to concede.

“Yeah, yeah.” Livingston laughed softly, turning to leave, but pausing by Linus in the doorway and leaning against the steel frame. “Take care now,” he added, calling back into the drill.

Linus followed Livingston with his eyes as he left, perplexed.

* * *

“I mean, I can’t discourage anything, as long as they’re getting their work done,” said Danny.

“Mmh,” replied Rusty, looking out over Reuben’s pool as he shoveled Chinese takeout into his mouth with a plastic fork.

“You know how teams can be. It’s a tight-knit community. This kind of thing…”

“It does,” agreed Rusty.

Their peace was disturbed as Linus stumbled down the back steps, nearly tripping twice, his slightly oversized jacket sleeves flopping at his hands.

“There he is,” said Danny, with no particular inflection.

“We need to talk,” Linus said, out of breath.

“What did you do this time?”

“Nothing. It’s not me. It’s Livingston.”

“What did Livingston do?”

“Well… nothing really. Nothing weird, but also kind of weird. Like he’s acting different all of a sudden.”

Rusty nodded knowingly.

“You guys know what I’m talking about?”

“Maybe. Depends on what you’re talking about. If you’re talking about Livingston running coffee errands like it’s his mission in life, then yeah, we know. And if you’re talking about Livingston just wandering around the house for the past week, slightly dazed, then yeah, we know. And if you’re talking about Livingston-”

“I’m talking about Livingston showing up at the drill, and Basher, who’d been yelling at me all afternoon about his stupid engineering stuff, suddenly went all cheerful. Like… eerily so.”

“Eerily cheerful,” repeated Rusty. “Huh.”

“Well I suppose it’s only fair that we let you in on the wager,” said Danny.

“Wager?”

“How long before either of them figure out they’ve got it bad. They’re both clueless bastards. I’ve got fifty bucks on Basher realizing first. He’s always been a romantic.”

“Wager,” repeated Linus. “Who else has money on this?”

“Rusty,” said Danny, “and Saul, and Frank, and Yen, and the twins.”

“And Terry Benedict,” added Rusty.

“ _Terry Benedict_?”

“Terry Benedict,” said Danny. “Right. Care to place a bet?”

“I’m staying out of this,” said Linus. “You guys sure have weird games you play.”

“Surely you of all people must know this by now, Linus.”

Linus started to head back inside, but paused. There was a slight feeling of belonging now, like he wanted in on the action. Maybe it was Danny’s influence, or the thrill of the gamble.

“A hundred,” he called back to Danny. “There’s no way Livingston doesn’t realize it in the next couple days.”

“Bold move,” said Danny, grinning.

“One more thing. Are we allowed to run interference? I mean, can we help things along?”

“Anything goes,” said Danny. “Just don’t try anything too cheesy. We don’t need a Hallmark rom-com in the middle of a heist.”

* * *

“Anybody home?”

Livingston called up into the drill, and after a moment, Basher appeared, stretching the stiffness out of his shoulders.

“You’re a lifesaver,” sighed Basher, taking the coffee and briefly holding the condensation-covered edge against his face. “It has to be a million degrees down here during the day.”

“Hey, in fahrenheit that’s just regular Nevada weather.”

Basher laughed. Then, noticing Livingston still staring. “What, do I have something on my face?”

“Yeah, actually. It looks like grease.”

“No kidding. Eh, I’ll get it later.” Basher paused. “Hey, you still haven’t seen the mechanics, right?”

“Oh, uh… no?”

“You might actually understand some of this shit. I can’t get anyone to appreciate it. Come up here.” Basher grabbed his wrist, pulling him over to the ladder. “It’s actually pretty cool.”

Livingston stepped back. “I’m not amazing with small spaces in general. Even being in this part isn’t… fun.”

Basher hesitated, staring, contemplating this.

“Why didn’t you say something, huh? If I’d known that I wouldn’t have dragged you down here every day of the week. I could have made one of the kids do it.”

“What? No, it’s fine. I actually like… well, not like that, but I like coming down here and stuff. I mean, I don’t _like_ it, but I like it, you know what I mean?”

“No,” said Basher flatly. “I don’t usually understand what you say, actually.”

“Oh,” said Livingston. “Sorry.”

“Don’t worry about it. It’s adorable.”

Livingston felt his face get hot. He pressed his lips tightly together.

“You alright there?” Basher turned concerned. “Are you having a… a claustrophobia, or whatever it’s called?”

“I’dliketoseethedrillplease.”

“What?”

Livingston took a deep breath. “I don’t think I’d mind. Can I see what you were going to show me?”

* * *

“Has anyone seen Livingston?” called Rusty from the kitchen.

Linus appeared in the doorway, shrugging.

“Basher just called me about another coffee, but I can’t find Livingston. Would you mind running it to him?”

“Sure,” said Linus. It wasn’t looking good for his hundred dollars if Livingston was disappearing.

But when Linus got to the drill with the order, he realized that Livingston hadn’t disappeared at all. He hadn’t left the drill since he’d gone that afternoon. And now Linus could hear laughing and talking echoing in the metal structure.

“You guys in here?” called Linus, even though the answer was blatantly obvious.

Basher waved from the upper level. “Just pass it up, thanks.”

Linus half-climbed the ladder and slid the plastic cup across the metal grate. Yes, Basher and Livingston were both there, and they’d apparently set up shop. All of Livingston’s tech from the house encircled him where he sat, and Basher was watching him work, lounging lazily against the wall.

“So that’s where you went,” laughed Linus.

“Yeah, sorry, it’s easier to think down here,” said Livingston.

“No big deal. Rusty just thought you’d been kidnapped or something.”

Basher tasted the coffee, frowning, and passed it to Livingston. “Does this taste like three shots of hazelnut to you?”

“I barely taste one.”

“Hmm. They always forget the syrup.”

And then, Linus watched in silent victory as Basher took the cup back and leaned against Livingston, letting his head fall against his shoulder, and Livingston smiled.

“I uh… I didn’t specifically ask them for three hundred dollars, but I can next time,” said Linus.

Basher looked up. “What?”

“I mean three shots of syrup.”

* * *

“What do you _mean_ that doesn’t count?” Linus exclaimed. “I saw it! They were literally right next to each other. Basher was practically asleep on his lap.”

Danny just shook his head. “That’s not an acknowledgement, Linus. No money changes hands until we know we’ve got an actual realization.”

“Well why is it different?”

“Because,” said Rusty, “Livingston Dell is a touch-starved, repressed nerd. He recognizes that he feels a certain way, but doesn’t know exactly why. He probably thinks he has the flu or something.”

“So how do we know when they know.”

“You’ll know it when you see it,” said Danny.

“Son of a bitch,” groaned Linus, clutching at his skull in frustration. “Why can’t you just love someone? Why do there have to be mind games?”

“Hey, the mind games are half the fun. Just be patient and enjoy the show.”

* * *

There were approximately forty-eight hours until the Bank heist, and with Reuben in the mend, Danny was the one who decided a quieter evening might ease everyone’s nerves.

“We have Netflix _and_ HBO,” said Rusty, idly browsing the shows. “I heard _Succession_ is good. Any votes? Sports?”

Linus and Frank moved the extra sofa into the living room. Danny took to the kitchen, making snacks.

“Genre preference?” added Rusty. “Comedy? Action? _Romance?_ ”

“Anyone know where Basher went?” asked Livingston.

At the mention of the name, nearly every head in the room turned, and then immediately tried to pretend like it hadn’t.

“Showering,” said Rusty. “He’s been working all day. Said he’d join us in a second. Why don’t you save him a spot? That couch over there is empty.”

Livingston turned to the couch. “I assumed Saul was going to take that like usual.”

Saul quickly shook his head. “I’m much more of a chairs man. Please, take the couch.”

“Well if you insist…”

“What are we watching?” called Basher from the doorway.

“Not sure yet,” said Rusty. “Anyone speaks up and they get first choice.”

“Fine. It’s my pick and I was hoping either for _Legend_ or _The Italian Job_. I need a crime flick. It’ll get me in the mood for tomorrow.”

Linus sighed.

“What?” mumbled Rusty. “Hoping for _Titanic_?”

“ _The Italian Job_ doesn’t exactly set the mood, and I’d like my money.”

“Shows what you know. I’ve made out with Danny plenty of times while watching heist films.”

“What?”

“What?”

“Food’s done,” Danny announced.

Basher took the spot on the couch next to Livingston, exactly as everyone but them had planned, and from there, there was nothing they could do but wait.

Linus tried to forget the skin he had in the game and watched the movie. He almost forgot, for a second, what he was supposed to be thinking about, because _The Italian Job_ was pretty damn good. He loved a good car chase, but at the climax of the film, he suddenly felt a nudge from Rusty’s direction.

 _Look. Don’t be obvious,_ Rusty mouthed.

Basher had re-assumed his comfortable position, arm draped across Livingston, eyes on the screen. Something funny happened, and they laughed together, and Basher turned to make the usual snarky comment.

But when he turned, instead of speaking, he waited for a moment, still smiling. Livingston turned from the screen and met his eyes, and they shared something that wasn’t quite something, but was too obvious to not be something, Linus thought. And suddenly, he understood what Danny had meant about knowing it when he saw it, because he knew it, and seconds later, it was like Livingston knew it too. Because Livingston’s eyes widened, and his mouth fell open for just a second, and Basher laughed quietly like he’d known all along.

Basher was the one who initiated it, possibly in a characteristic burst of confidence. He leaned forward in just the few inches it took to close the space between them, tilting his friend’s chin up slightly with his hand, and kissed him gently on the corner of his mouth. It was a test. A very polite, _are you okay with this?_

 _Yes_ , seemed to be the enthusiastic reply, as Livingston shakily slid a hand up the side of his arm, trying to find a more comfortable position.

And Saul hit pause as the cheers filled the room.

“Daniel,” demanded Saul. “Where’s my money?”

Livingston and Basher paused in confusion as the watch party burst into commotion, still holding each other.

“Come on guys,” sighed Rusty, sliding his wallet out of his pocket. “Show a little decorum.”


End file.
